


Public Displays of Affection

by TakingFlight48



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apologies after a win, F/M, Professional Quidditch Seeker Draco, Shower Sex, Winning Hermione back, apologies and love, going public, just hot emotional smut, slow and sweat, then hot and steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakingFlight48/pseuds/TakingFlight48
Summary: She had dedicated a year and a half to Draco Malfoy.  A year and a half of hiding, sneaking and loving each other under the pretence of barely being friends.  And she gave up.  Six months later she's still working on healing her heart, her self-esteem and getting herself back into the game.  However, Draco has other plans as he has fought tradition, expectations, and found the perfect way to attempt to win back the puzzle piece that most aligns to his.This is how he does it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 175





	Public Displays of Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hslades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hslades/gifts).



> They say a ladies birthday is not just the day or the week, but the month. So here's to you my lovely amiga - hslades. For having introduced me to such wonderful humans as yourself in our small group and good luck self quarantining for your big rugby match. xoxo You are loved and I hope you enjoy this little BIRTHDAY gift I made for you <3 
> 
> Even when I said I didn't have time. oops ;)
> 
> Also praise for my main b/alpha/beta extraordinaire, [Kiwi05622](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi05622/works) and her beautiful moodboard!!
> 
> Enjoy ☮ ✌

* * *

“Absolutely not, Parks! This is a Quidditch match, not the London Philharmonic!” Hermione tutted as Pansy attempted to drape her in another silky number. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course, it’s not something as classy as all that, but this is a silk wrap dress, Nia. Which are both an ideal length for long stairs as you sway your hips to and fro and a respectable number to be photographed in.” Pansy tugged at Hermione’s sensible trousers in an equally relentless grip. 

“But olive is in! Daphne said so herself and these are olive cigarette trousers! That must count for something,” Hermione moaned as she gave up the tug of war. 

“Aha! You’re not wrong, Mon Cherie. And it is cigarette pants but today is not just any Quidditch Match. You will be on the arm of the wizarding world’s favourite seeker twice over to watch the game of your longest and hottest fling and Witch Weekly’s fittest bachelor. 

Hermione’s face scrunched up, “I wouldn’t say the hottest, definitely the most attractive option at the time, but not the best for my ego, general ability to love myself, and well also the fact that no one but you knew.” 

Pansy placed two soft and perfectly manicured fingers on either side of Hermione’s mouth, “Smile, Hermione Jean. You are going to give him what-for today. He didn’t deserve you, and quite frankly the fact that I was willing to go public with our friendship should have been enough for him.”

Throwing her head back, she scrunched her eyes until Pansy relented, “It’s been six months. He has had more than enough time to set things right or appro-”

“I think sending you owls once a week coun-”

“It doesn’t when the very vital ‘I am sorry’ is clearly lacking throughout each one. So I moved on, Parks and if the rumours have any fire under them so has he, many times in fact.”

Hermione eyed Pansy as she darted her gaze back to her shoe selection. She knew Pansy’s silence was both, protecting Hermione from additional potential pain and also Draco's confidence, but it didn’t do anything but tie Hermione’s stomach in deeper knots. It was one thing to attempt to live without the person you had fallen in love with. It was another to have it all but confirmed that they were able to move on as quickly as Draco did. 

“Was it Astoria?” Hermione whispered, hands coming around to hug her middle, head tilted up again to avoid any stupid tears from falling. 

“It was not anyone. I looked away because I cannot tell you what it has been like for Draco. I cannot tell you the hoops he has been jumping to try and get back to you, but I can tell you that you need to do what is best for you. That’s what girlfriends are for, yes?” She forced Hermione’s watery gaze back on hers and with a warm smile, smacked her hard on the shoulder laughing at Hermione’s yelp. 

“Now stop making me be all sappy and put on this damned dress. Viktor will be here shortly, and I still want to fix,” Pansy threw her hands around the general space of Hermione’s curls, “this. Let’s remind him who he tried to keep hidden in the shadows, hmm?”

  
  


Hermione stood off to the side as she waited for Viktor to finish signing the last autograph, smiling when he politely side-stepped another fan and pointed in her general direction. He was thoughtful like that, always ensuring that she was not feeling left out or forgotten in the haze of his ever-lasting fame. _If only he were single_ , she lamented as he stomped back to her, slight gait in his walk and eyes strictly above her collarbone. 

Looping his arm around her shoulders, she whined, “You’re certain Martonin is unwilling to share you with a third? I promise I share well with others,” she batted her lashes up at him as he kissed her forehead with a shake of his head. “Your funnier the more you age, Min. For now, we want to enjoy just the two of us, but if you’re still single in a few months, I am sure he and I can discuss.”

“Oh to be young and in love,” the back of her hand came up to drape along her forehead. 

“So, are you dressed so wonderfully for pale face? Or just to see me?” Viktor laughed at the look of disgust she was certain crossed her face. 

“Pansy insisted I dress well enough to be photographed on your arm. You know I would have chosen pants - what if I get swept up into the air or fall out of our box seats!”

“What a blessing then that we have magic to avoid any dress peekers,” Victor flourished his wand and murmured in his native tongue until Hermione felt an invisible string settle around her thighs. She shifted her hips quickly from side to side, jumped up against Viktor’s shoulder and danced, and her dress stayed firmly at her sides. 

“Right - you’re teaching me that! But first, let’s get our exercise on!” Hermione announced as she attempted to tug the wall that was Viktor towards the main stairs to his box seats. “Da, we could,” he laughed as he carefully brought her back into his arms, “or we could be lazy, famous people and take the elevators.” 

Hermione’s eyes glowed at this tremendous change in their situation, “Yes, please,” she grinned brightly. 

  
  


The noise of the stadium was deafening as Hermione sipped on her white wine. She attempted to follow Viktor’s murmured commentary as she forced her gaze on Ginny and her flaming red braid flinging behind her, instead of the broad, lithe frame of her last love. 

So focused on being present as she was, she barely realised Viktor had stopped commentating and instead was poking fun at her. 

“Min - you can watch the game without watching him, although he hasn’t stopped looking towards the family box.” Hermione nodded absently, her peripherals full of the blonde man, “Not paying attention - Okay. So the pumpkin is being passed between both little girls and then - look there. That's an Irish jig they just did.” 

“Mmmm, yes the jig - wait, what? I am not not watching him. I am simply very focused on Ginny and how she manoeuvres around these massive Spanish players. What’s their name again?” Hermione asked innocently, turning to Viktor and ignoring his unimpressed smirk. “Your boyfriend's team,” “Not my boyfriend!” “His team is Puddlemere United, and the opposing team is Bizkaia Boggarts from Basque Country I believe,” he murmured the last bit more to himself. 

“Oh, they are definitely from Basque, do you see the thick, rich head of hair they boast and that beautiful skin tone.” 

At Viktor’s incredulous stare, she laughed, “What! A witch can admire, can’t she? Plus, none of you believes me but I. Am. Single. I wasn’t before when I said I was so I could understand your confusion but-”

“Min - shh - watch!” Viktor pulled her up with him to lean over the thick glass that separated her from the fall of death, her mouth still opened, mid-thought rattling around in her brain. 

“I know, I know but you must look at your seeker now. He’s spotted the Snitch, same as me.” Viktor sent her a boastful smirk as she rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, yes we know you will probably sweep his team come the finals. Where is he?”

It was like the crowd all leaned in, voices lowering. Leaning in with them, she focused on the commentator, some excited witch from the Middle East. Her rich voice traversed the stadium, her accent rolling off her tongue, and her excitement mirrored the adrenaline on the field. 

“Weasley - a sad reminder that today is her last game - risking it as she tosses the Quaffle to the far right. AND,” the commentator screams, “it pays off as Jansen - a recent transfer to Puddlemere from the Netherlands - catches it without a second to lose as they toss it into Costello’s rings and 10 points to Puddlemere United!” Hermione gripped Viktor’s arm tightly as Che moved to send a bludger right in Draco’s flight path. 

“Flint smashes a bludger away from Malfoy as he races up into the top tiers of the stadium, Aldoran right on his broom tail and gaining speed. Weasley scores another 10 points for Puddlemere bringing to 210 - 180; Puddlemere in the lead. It’s too close to call folks as Martine sends the Quaffle back up the pitch to Pucey attempting to get past him.” 

“Come on, Pucey,” Hermione shouts. The commentator is as relieved as she feels, “and he blocks the pass! Draco Malfoy has picked up speed. IT WAS A FAKE OUT, Aldoran is struggling to catch up as Draco takes a sharp left, flying close to the stands as he chases what we hope will be - I am sorry - what could be the golden snitch!”

“I don’t remember feeling this tense when I was dating him,” Hermione murmured, lip firmly wedged between her teeth and her suede bootie tapping rhythmically against the wooden flooring under her. 

“Bizkaia scores on the left hoop, just making it past Pucey’s outstretched fingers and Flint slams the bludger into Santiago, forcing him to drop the Quaffle, and all eyes are back on the seekers. Weasley scores! Malfoy has let go of his broom, fingers outstretched before him and that is 150 points to Puddlemere United! Draco Malfoy has secured his place in the British National team and has moved Puddlemere into the European Finals! England's sweetheart will face off against international sweetheart Viktor Krum.”

The crowd was stomping, screaming, chanting, and Puddlemere was swooping around each other each trying to slap Draco harder on the back than the last. She could see Ginny’s tears of happiness from here. “He will be fun opponent. Who will you support Min?” She turned to glance up at Viktor’s wicked grin and felt a blush colouring her flushed cheeks. 

“If I had it my way,” a voice spoke firmly behind them, “she would be draped in my team colours, Malfoy and the Number 7 emblazoned in deep green on the back.” 

Hermione darted her eyes between both of Viktor’s begging him silently not to make her face him, to please interfere, to please stop this trainwreck that was her heart, just healing, from cracking back open. 

Instead, her traitorous partner ran his fingers over her shoulders before slowly, softly, turning her panicked gaze onto the last man she wanted to come face to face with in the next 300 years. 

Her breath was coming in short pants when she realised that not only was Draco bloody Malfoy floating directly before her, but it seemed the entire stadium was zeroed in on the victorious seekers' actions. 

“This,” he slowly uncurled his fingers and offered her the winning snitch, “is for you. As a token of my deepest apologies and a very public pronouncement of my desire for you. My feelings have not changed since last we spoke, Hermione Jean, and if you will consider giving this wretched bastard a 15th chance, I would like to make you the happiest witch this side of the Atlantic.” 

“Forgive but don’t forget Min.” She stood rooted to the spot as Viktor finally gave her space. She slowly lifted her eyes from Draco’s extended, slightly shaking hand to the earnestness that coloured his molten gaze. 

“No more hiding?” She questioned, brow furrowed as Hermione took a step closer to the floating man. 

“Never again,” Draco was firm. 

“Your parents?” 

“Have no further say in my affairs, both business and of the heart. However, Mother is planning to have you over for tea within the next two weeks,” Draco rolled his eyes, and Hermione felt her shoulders relax. 

Breathing in the autumn air that fluttered around her curls and through his damp loose strands, she asked one final question, “Do you love me?”

Draco’s eyes widened, and she would be able to tell you, for years after this day, the precise moment in which she felt her heart shatter in a million pieces around her. Just as she was ready to leave in the wake of his silence, his voice cut through her panic, as easily as her wand cut through wards. “Take the Snitch - _my love_. Trust me.”

Her hand rose, the rest of her waiting for the final push to crumble before 100 thousand spectators, and plucked the snitch from his hand. However, as she went to pull it away, he held on tightly and to her immense surprise the Snitch split in half to reveal a glittering deep Sapphire ring encased in millions of iridescent stones. “I do not just love you, Hermione Jean Granger. The sun does not rise nor set without my thoughts running back to you. In my busiest moments I picture you there by my side, in the quiet ones, leaning against me, in the obstacles we are sure to face, it has only been you since that first day in Italy two years ago. I was so stupid to let you go, but please give me the chance to make it up to you for the rest of our lives. Will you do me the immense honor of marrying me?”

Hermione was shaking, but no longer from fear or the crushing grief that had consumed her for months. Instead, she was trembling with the awareness that this wonderful, damaged, talented man wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Shaking her head rapidly in time with the beating of her heart, she whispered “Yes, yes, yes,” repeatedly. 

Draco’s face broke into a relieved smile, his entire body sitting taller, his hair glistening brighter, and his eyes more profound than she had seen them in months. With a light tug, he forced her forward, and she watched, wide-eyed as his thighs clenched around his broom, barely rocking in place as he slowly slipped the ring onto her left ring finger. “This ring was commissioned for you using various gems and metals from the Malfoy Vault. I pulled from some of the pieces that had once belonged to our staunchest PureBloods. I want to start a new reputation for Malfoy’s with you by my side.” Hermione’s smile was radiant, and she felt like she was flying. 

Perhaps it was because feeling him, even just against her palm after their goodbye, was an elixir she wasn’t aware her body needed. Or maybe it was because of the massive rock that now sat obscenely against her finger. Either way, it took her a moment too long to realise her feet were no longer planted on the ground and the warmth seeping around her was actually his magic coiling around her. Screaming to be put down, Draco’s smile grew brighter as he placed her on the broom in front of him. Freezing in place, her thighs resting atop his, she threw her arms around his shoulders, eyes wide and holding on tight. “Eyes on me, Granger,” he smirked before his brows furrowed and he leaned in, lips a hair's breadth apart, and Hermione begged, “Please.” 

When his lips touched hers, Hermione vaguely heard the sounds of the stadium erupting in cheers around them. Louder than even at the end of the match as the Middle Eastern Commentator screamed above it all, “If that kiss is anything to go by, ladies and gentlemen, our steamiest Seeker is no longer on the market!!”

Hermione broke away from Draco laughing, as Ginny swooped in followed by the rest of his team. Moments before Draco descended with Hermione’s fingers digging into his shoulder muscles, she looked back at Viktor to see him clapping just as joyously as these strangers around them. 

  
  


Hermione sat on the plush seat before his bed staring a bit obsessively at the way the light shone from the new addition to her hand. She had been showing it off all night, both on purpose to friends and by accident simply by the sheer statement it made. Hermione surprised herself in how much she adored this ring already considering how simple she kept the rest of her accessories. 

It perhaps had something to do with the man who had insisted on a second shower after the long hours spent celebrating the win and the accepted proposal. Hermione slipped the deep purple silk off, her skin already tingling in anticipation as she lay her dress beside his Quidditch Kit, as she had done before a million times. She carelessly secured her loose curls atop her head in a high, messy ballet bun, shimmying out of her lingerie before padding to the ajar door. 

She inhaled the deep forest scent of Draco’s body wash and the rosemary and mint hair products he used. Pushing the door open, her skin puckered as the steamy air before her latched onto her chilled skin. She clicked it shut, loving the way the steam was collecting around his feet in his standing shower, eager to be as consumed by it as she was by him. 

He had yet to turn around or stop his ministrations on his shoulder-length hair. Hermione loved when he wore it in that small bun on the back of his head, but there was something to be said about a Malfoy and his white golden curtain of hair. 

The glass door clicked open, and she grinned widely as he slowly shifted to face her, his inner biceps rippling as he washed the last remnants of the shampoo off his hair. Her eyes followed the path of the water, mixing with the foamy substance as it traced along his collarbone, darting towards his pecs, circumventing a light pink nipple, and following the muscular path of his abdominal muscles. Her heated breath mingled with the steam as she slowly let her eyes reacquaint themselves with the adonis belt that led her straight to his manhood. His erection at half-mast hung near his thigh, growing thicker under her uncensored observation. 

Licking her top lip, pink tongue darting out as if to catch the water flowing over his shaft, she glanced up, “I figured you’d need help washing your back.”

Draco simply nodded once, his gaze leaving behind brushes of lust as he too took in her nudity. He traced the pinkening of her skin under the heat surrounding them and the darkening of her eyes as she was assaulted with images of their many trips through ecstasy. Hermione knew she only needed a little friction to feel even a moment of the satisfaction he had previously wrung from her. 

A quiet, “Merlin,” tumbled from her loose lips as he turned, his arse muscles rippling in time with his back, the exquisite lines of his Quidditch training quickly making her regret her opening line. She was confident, had she just leapt into his arms when first entering this space with him she would be enjoying the contracting of those arse cheeks as he thrust into her. 

However, there was something about Draco Malfoy that brought out this vivacious, sexual vixen which demanded the soft touch, the light tease, the coy lip bite. So she obliged her inner-goddess and gently took the loofa from his hand, applying a dollop of the crisp soap and began to draw runes along his back, whispering each as she completed them. “ _Joy; Protection; Possession; Prosperity; Wholeness; Love; Fertility.”_

Pushing him forward, so the waterfall was now separating him from her and washing away the suds, she moved the loofa lower down and across his clenching arse before dropping it sightlessly into the layer of steam. Hermione let her eyes close and leaned into the flowing spray, forehead between his back as she smiled softly when she felt his shoulder blades shifted on either side of her temples. “I missed you,” he whispered, and her fingers tightened around his hips. 

Not so distant memories guided her hand movements as her fingers trailed along his hip bones, tracing the dip of his adonis belt, fingertips brushing against the baby soft hairs of his groin. She had always envied how soft, thin, and pale his hair was - _everywhere_. Where his were light and soft, hers were dark and unyielding unless she kept up her routine. 

His soft, deep groan vibrated against her forehead as she finally wrapped her hands around his rigid member. She played him gently, her skin flowing against his as smoothly as the water flowed around their bodies. She had always loved this part, where he let her. Let her touch him, love him, please him, without demanding anything from him, without him feeling the need to give anything but all of himself to her. Hermione choked back a sob of relief, relief that his velvety sex was back in her grasp, his broad shoulders a canvas for her lips, his thrusting hips a reminder of their closeness. 

Bringing her other hand under him, she trailed her fingers around his sac, slowly rolling him around in her fingers, never letting up on her firm pumping. A smirk stole across her face, a stark contrast to her sorrowful relief moments before, as he finally relented and slapped a hand to the marble behind him, head bending low at her ministrations. 

They realised simultaneously how close he was and before she could decide if she was content to feel him lose himself in her palm, he cupped himself, silently asking her to let go as he turned. He pulled her closer to him, the rest of her body falling victim to the spray as she joined him on the other side. His back was leaning against the simple dark grey and metallic patterns behind him, chest rising and falling as his hands traced up and down her arms. 

“I missed you too,” Hermione blinked back water droplets that had made it through her bun and onto her crown, or perhaps they were tears. Draco’s palms stilled against her elbows, and he brought her smaller body against his own. Ankles to chest, his sharp, corded planes welcomed her soft, thicker frame, her chest rubbing against his own, her stomach cocooning his member softly between them. 

His finger drew softly against her chin, and his gaze reminded her of their first date. The sense of belonging, of having found someone to fit against his sharp edges, was still there and she dropped her head against his chest. She felt his hands come down around her thighs and she attempted to protest, murmuring how she hated when he picked her up, how no matter how strong he was, she was not a size two anymore, but he rarely listened. And when his hands were firmly wrapped under her thighs, her hips stretched around his hips, he pouted, “Please, let me hold you close, darling.” 

Sucking her lips in she released them as she released her protests and ran her hands along his corded arms, engaged as they were in holding her up. “Come here,” he urged, and she slowly brought her hands up to his face, fingertips dancing along his aristocratic cheekbones and defined chin before she held onto him firmly and lowered her lips to his. They both breathed out their relief as her lips sat atop his before her quick pecks turned into longer moments of connection. Hermione groaned into him as his tongue traced along the seam of her lips, reminding himself of the shape of her as he requested entrance. 

As his tongue entered tentatively into her mouth, she traced a hand between them. Cautiously she pushed her hips out just enough to run him along her folds. She was huffing against his mouth, both of them panting heavily and they had yet to do anything but touch. “You ready?” She asked, positioning him at her entrance and pulling her face away enough to see the concentration on his own. “It’s, uhm, it’s well it’s been about six mo-”

Her eyes widened comically as Draco’s eyes glazed over and he thrust forward both with hips and mouth. At the feel of his hips thrusting shallowly in and out of her, she brought her hands back up to his face, tilted head, and allowed her tongue to enter his mouth finally. Tongues were battling against the other, not in dominance but in the desire to remember each ridge; the desire to encourage each nerve ending’s pleasure to match the pleasure bubbling in their core. 

“Damn,” Draco pulled himself away, eyes still clenched shut, forehead against hers as they both caught their breath. He bent his knees, weight still heavy against the wall behind him, and thrust up into Hermione hard. Her head tipped back, water catching and soaking through her bun and down either side of her face as she attempted to match him, her thighs tightening and loosening to rise and fall with him. He licked a path up her neck before attaching himself to every free area of skin he could suck, nip, bite as they continued the push and pull. 

“I couldn’t,” he grunted against her skin, “I couldn't even look at any other witch while we were apart,” he barely managed to get out. “I was so busy, fuck, so busy sorting out parents, your ring, and-” he turned them and slammed her against the wall, her scream reverberating against the sharp lines of his bathroom as he latched onto her nipple, hard. 

“Just shut up,” she groaned down now that she could press against the wall, “and keep fucking me.”

He shook his head against her nipple, teeth firm around her peak, keening as his movement sent zaps of electricity straight to her clit. “No, no, I need to get this out,” Draco traced his lips along her chest, up and down her sternum before straightening his neck to look at her once again. “After, after, please, please so close, please,” she pled, bringing his face close to hers and interspersing kisses along his eyes, his nose, his cheekbones, his ears, his neck with more soft pleas. 

“Yes, yes, okay,” and Draco, sopping wet as they both were, slipped out of her and lowered them onto the marble bench along the opposite wall. Unwilling to be parted from him until she reached completion, she immediately hitched her left thigh around his hip and wrapped sure fingers around him again, pumping him and letting his tip slide against her clit on each upstroke. Her lids slammed shut in her self pleasure, and she felt Draco’s hand land by her ear. Hermione forced her eyes back to his, thrusting her hips against his member. His eyes darted, mouth opened and curses pouring forth, between her shifting chest, lustful gaze, and the way she was using him to bring herself closer to the edge. 

“Please, Nia, please,” Draco panted by her ear, his head having dropped the firmer she gripped him. 

Wide-eyed Hermione quickly shifted Draco back to her entrance, and without any more teasing or tricks, he pushed in. They were not gentle this time. Her nails tore down his back, his teeth bore into her neck, and the loud clap of skin against skin silenced the delicate patters of the running water behind them. 

Gritting his teeth together, he loomed over her, brow furrowed as he moved fully into her, _slap, clap, slap, clap_ as her arse cheeks met his hips on each thrust. For each grunt he breathed out she whined louder. Resting his upper body weight on his right hand, he brought his left to her sensitive bud. Her moans came out stuttered, without rhythm or reason, as he pulled tight circles against her skin. His cock glided effortlessly within her slippery walls, her muscles contracting around each thrust as his thumb shook her clit. 

Her world was slowly tipping as she tripped over his name, her lids wide, eyes rolling back, mouth breathing out sounds that the words couldn't catch up with, as she shook underneath him. Hermione felt her whole being cease to be and then roar back to life as her back finally came hard around him. Her fingers, trying to find purchase against him, the marble bench, the glass wall, her hair. With a final few jerks, she settled, her limbs still twitching from the power of her first orgasm in over half a year. 

Draco was still above her, whispering how good she felt and she forced her leaden hand to trace his mouth as she whispered her praise until he gave a final, sharp thrust, abdomen twitching, and his own stuttered groans spilt through his teeth. 

He stayed over her, in her, as their breaths calmed in time with their galloping heartbeats. She smiled up at him as he slowly pulled out and he redirected the water to their side and carefully cleaned her and then himself. “Wouldn’t do to leave the shower dirtier than we got in, hmm?”

His exaggerated wink had her cringing hard at his attempt at humour, “Oh, Draco.” 

He helped her out and stepped under the archway of the shower, before draping a loose towel around his hips. Following suit, she extended her arms, fingertips touching either side of the entrance of the shower, as the drying spell was activated and warm air tickled her skin. 

“I could watch your skin pucker a million times over,” Draco said, trailing a hand along her soft centre and pulling her in for a brief kiss. “Mmm, glad I can be of service, Mr Malfoy.” She said humming quietly when he pulled a robe, her robe, from behind his back. 

She grabbed it, bringing the soft acromantula silk to glide across her chin before she put it on and ran her fingers over her embroidered initials over her heart. Draco proceeded to pull out her toothbrush, favourite floss set, the brush she had purchased in Magical Morocco - setting them exactly where she kept them, alongside his own. 

Brow furrowed, she looked up at him in question, “You, if you kept all this, why did you, why wait so long?” Her head shook slightly trying to find the missing piece in his absence. 

“Parents, Ring, and then a Plan to show you how serious I was about us, not just for you to feel secure but for the world to know we were no longer available. It wasn’t until Pansy and Viktor came to me with the idea for today that the final piece fell into place.” Running his hand through his hair, Hermione luxuriated in the way his magic, so quickly called to the surface, left his hair looking glossy and sleek. “They love you, rightly so, and were right brassed off with me but also knew we were both hurting each other and ourselves.”

“Draco,” Hermione hushed, “This is what I asked for, remember? I asked for you to find me, find me and be ready to BE. Did I hope it would happen sooner, yes, and I am thankful you explained why it took so long, but I am just relieved, honestly at this point. Give me a few hours, and you’ll find me sobbing in relief, finally letting all these,” Hermione shook her hands around her sternum, “feelings, thoughts, walls, fall away. But for now, can we just, _be_?”

“Just one more question,” he smirked as he prepared his toothbrush the muggle way. Smiling softly at him, “One more, then just, let’s see if we still have our rhythm.” Humming, Hermione brushed her teeth alongside him, waiting patiently for him to finish over his sink. “Fair enough. Will you be coming to the Finals wearing my name and number?”

Biting her lip Hermione rocked her head side to side, “I suppose there are worst things than watching you lose to Viktor.” She squealed and darted out of the bathroom, laughing in delight as Draco caught up with her and they spent the rest of the weekend exploring what his public display of affection had brought back into both of their lives. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you felt that as much as I did when I was writing it because I loved this little slice of fluff. 
> 
> Please let me know with kudos/comments, check out some of the other fluffies I've written and and and of course GO CHECK OUT my girl hslades Quidditch stories and then some. <3
> 
> _Happy Birthday, Darling_
> 
> One of my love languages is words of affirmation so I am here for all your comments, they are a writers lifeblood and highly appreciated. Should you disagree with the words displayed above, ConCrit is appreciated/preferred as well. ॐ


End file.
